


Bits and pieces

by artemis69



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Awesome Sheriff Stilinski, Cop!Derek, Cupids, Parent!Derek, Sterek being very much in love, Tumblr fics and not!Fic, Werewolf Lore, You'll find many of my ideas or ficlets here, gay mentor Derek Hale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-08
Updated: 2018-12-09
Packaged: 2019-09-14 11:40:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16912212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/artemis69/pseuds/artemis69
Summary: This is a mismatch of ficlets, meta and prompts that I wrote over these last years on tumblr.In each chapter you’ll find things like Derek the gay mentor, awesome Sheriff Stilinski, Werewolf culture, various creatures, soulmates and other AUs, filled prompts…





	1. The Sheriff big freak-out or how to be a great gay mentor, by Derek Hale

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Bits and pieces (Кусочки, обрывки, наброски)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17679839) by [pakadoge](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pakadoge/pseuds/pakadoge)



> Hi people! 
> 
> So some of you will have read all of this already, others maybe not.  
> I'm finally putting everything in the same place, hoping that maybe some of these bits of ficlets and prompts will make at least for small fun moments of reading!
> 
> You are also more than welcome to play with anything striking your fancy in there! Just send me links so that I can scream over it! :D

Inspired by this beautiful still of the Sheriff:

So have a three parts ficlet!

 

 

 

Several years in the future, Derek and the Sheriff are kind of buddies. 

 

Derek is now a consultant for the Beacon Hills police for supernatural crimes or when they have a need for his super sniffer for critical emergencies.

 

(A few weeks ago, Derek found the lost little girl almost immediately, while the K9 unit from the next town was still lost in the woods. The Sheriff was so proud. They never talk about the fact that they had to circle the town in John’s police car, Derek’s head hanging out of the window like a poodle on a roadtrip).

 

So John and Derek sometimes hang out, watch football matches together, have a beer and talk about Stiles’ news from college. They enjoy each other’s company in a very quiet, simple way.

 

Then, Stiles comes back to Beacon Hills for Christmas, and immediately comes out as bisexual to his dad. 

The Sheriff blinks, then hugs him. 

 

And that should be the end of it. John is  _genuinely_  glad that Stiles told him and happy that his son seems to grow up happy in his own skin. 

 

He honestly doesn’t mean to search any of these stuffs online, but he’s bored and one innocent question about LGBT rights in California turns into a quick google search and quickly devolves into a spiral of links.

John falls deep. Too deep. 

 

He manages to keeps his anxiety at bay all the way to Derek’s home and his knocks on the door are barely frantic. But Derek opens the door as if he is expecting the Sheriff to be on fire, so John guesses that he didn’t control his panic-stricken heartbeat as well as he thought. 

 

After a few minutes of assuring Derek that no, Stiles is fine, John is fine, everyone is fine, no Stiles isn’t hurt, nobody’s kid got missing again, Melissa is fine, there is no monster eating anyone,  _Stiles is totally ok_ , and getting a glass of perfectly good whisky from Derek (who apparently keeps it around just for John), John finally explains. 

 

Because Derek? Derek is bisexual.

 

They have talked about it in passing several times. Talked about Derek’s ex, Jeff, who used to be a cop in New Jersey until he got shot on duty and became a teacher. Talked of the creep Derek had to call the police on one night while he was drinking at the Jungle and despairing over the shitty techno music. Talked about the association for LGBT kids Derek gives money to, and that he volunteers with from times to times.

 

To the Sheriff, it never seemed like a detail more important than knowing that Derek hates cheap beer or that he is a sore loser when his sport team gets slaughtered. 

 

But now, now it’s suddenly of extreme importance. Because the Sheriff needs someone with  _answers_ , precise answers, about things that he can’t ask directly to his kid. 

 

Things like giant sex toys and trips to the ER and drugs use and STDs and biphobia and bullying. 

 

He kind of blurt it all. Derek’s eyes look gigantic and his eyebrows almost fly off his forehead. 

So that’s how Derek becomes the Sheriff’s mentor in everything LGBT. 

It’s not as weird as it could be. 

 

Derek answers all the questions as best as he can. He tries to reassure him, voice gentle and soft. When he doesn’t know (and he wonders  _where_  the Sheriff got  _these_ informations), they look for answers together online, while staying far away from certain websites.  

 

(All the while, Derek tries to ignore really,  _really hard_ , that Stiles is bisexual and apparently single. He fails).

 

Then maybe the Sheriff brings Derek back home in the hope that Derek will talk to Stiles about all these stuffs (because he’s not sure he has mastered the details enough to give the bisexual version of the Talk. Also, the images of the humongous dildo are still haunting him). 

 

So they end up all around the kitchen table, Stiles looking bewildered and a little bit lost, Derek resigned and awkward and the Sheriff looking at them with crazy eyes (again, gigantic dildo. And ER trips.  _Melissa_  works there, this can never happen to them) until they start talking. 

 

Stiles knows all those things. Derek knows that Stiles knows. They talk about it anyway because, well, the Sheriff is starting to turn grey in worry.

 

After a little while, Stiles finally understands that Derek is talking from experience. That Derek is bisexual. And single. 

And Derek knows that Stiles is bisexual. And single. 

 

The awkwardness quickly turns to vague innuendos, then obvious flirting, then eyefucking over mugs of coffee. 

 

The Sheriff gets his colors back progressively. He wonders for a second if he should protest this development (the whole, seven years older and a werewolf thing could be a problem), but really, Derek is a great man. 

 

And he apparently knows how to use lube, condoms, and would never be stupid enough to use a gigantic dildo then lose it somewhere in his son. 

 

All in all, he’s ok with the direction this whole thing is taking.

 

 

**\---**

**_[#i must admit](https://www.tumblr.com/tagged/i-must%20admit) [#im a bit disappointed of the lack of mentions of knotting in this head canon](https://www.tumblr.com/tagged/im-a%20bit%20disappointed%20of%20the%20lack%20of%20mentions%20of%20knotting%20in%20this%20head%20canon) [#otherwise](https://www.tumblr.com/tagged/otherwise) [#head canon accepted](https://www.tumblr.com/tagged/head-canon%20accepted) _ ** **_(@hepzheba )._ **

**_You just had to ask!_ **

****

- 

 

It all starts again after a new google search. 

 

John knows he promised Stiles never to dive into the deep end of the internet again (he had trouble looking at eggs and different vegetables when shopping for  _weeks_ ). But this time, he really, _really_ doesn’t do it on purpose. 

 

He is exhausted after an entire day looking for clues for an unsolvable case, but his body refuses to let him sleep. It’s 5 AM, there is nothing on the TV and his brain is wandering. He doesn’t even open consciously the search engine, he just has questions floating in his brains that need answer. 

 

Like how pack dynamic works, how do you know you are an official pack member, and can he calls the alpha “son” if he’s almost his son-in-law, and are there werewolves wedding traditions? His brain wants answer, and Derek is asleep, and he’s  _tired_.

 

It starts innocently, with gamers forums and weird occult blogs and then.

Then, he starts following links. 

 

Knotting in these new ages involves way less craftsmanship and way more bodily fluids than he thought, and  _oh god it’s the whole trip to the ER again_.

 

He tries to reassure himself by looking at other links, but it keeps getting worse, and now there is biting, and blood, and ass pregnancy and OH GOD HE DIDN’T HAVE  _THAT_ VERSION OF THE TALK WITH HIS SON.

 

Cue the sheriff opening Stiles’ door in a panic at 6AM, computer under his arm and muttering things about supernatural pregnancy and people getting stuck in his son in times of emergencies. 

 

Stiles opens one eye, sighs, and buries his head under his pillow. He kicks Derek in the flank.

“Before 8AM, he’s  _your_   _dad_ , go take care of it.” 

 

Derek, all mussed up, wants to retort something witty but he’s half asleep and in the light from the hallway, John looks like a hangovered raccoon and is mumbling something about heat and rut. 

Derek jumps out of bed. 

 

(Then there is herbal soothing tea, and Derek explaining things with minimum cringing, and one or two sketches drawn on a napkin. 

 

Stiles finally gets up and drapes himself over Derek’s back and just listens, appalled but loving them both so much it hurts)

 

 

**\---**

 

 

It’s 4 AM when his bedroom door opens slow. The noise is almost inaudible, but John has been a single father and a cop for too long to wake up on the spot anyway. It takes him a few seconds of blinking to recognize the shadow at his door.  

 

Derek. 

 

John would have been quicker on the uptake if Stiles (and consequently Derek) hadn’t left his home for their new flat five years ago. 

 

John looks back at the clock. Still 4:03. 

He can do this.

 

He gets up to join Derek in the corridor. The man looks twenty years older and, at the same time, like the kid John found covered in ashes in front of the Hale fire all those years ago.

No man should look that pale. No werewolf should look that frightened. He’s wearing one of Stiles’ shirt, distended and faded, his hair flat. There is a bundle of fabric tightly held against his chest.

 

“Son?” asks John simply, one of his hand clutching Derek’s shoulder. After years of knowing him, John knows well how important touch can be for Derek. 

Derek stares at him for a long second, silent. 

 

“She…She’s still coughing and she doesn’t sleep and. She’s too warm. And her breath doesn’t sound right…” 

 

His voice is only a whisper, ashamed and terrified. He’s clearly fighting against the shift, red crawling in and out of his eyes, but his hands don’t show a hint of claws. Against his chest, there is a wet whimper and Derek tenses a little more, spine so straight it looks painful. 

 

“Ok, you are ok. Son?” he waits for Derek to looks him in the eyes, “you are both ok. The doctors told you it would take time for the antibiotics to operate. Did the fever go up?”

 

Derek shakes his head. John smiles at him encouragingly and takes the bundle from Derek’s hands.

 

From the middle of the nest of covers, Laura looks up at him, pale eyes wide opened and her little face creased and red after hours of crying. John kisses her nose (Claudia’s nose, Stiles’ nose), her cheek, and props her against his heart. With his right arm, he gathers his son-in-law against his side. 

 

“I know that this is stressful for you, but everything is  _fine_. It’s only a little cold, nothing abnormal. Human babies are more resistant than they seem.” 

 

“She’s so  _tiny_ ,” breathes Derek, following John obediently down the stairs but his eyes glued on his daughter. “And I tried to sing to her but she doesn’t stop crying like when Stiles does it, and he isn’t coming back for 36 hours and…”

 

John grips his neck and Derek deflates. John tries to make him sit at the kitchen, but Derek’s muscles are so stiff he seems unyielding. John puts Laura back in Derek’s hands and the effect is immediate. He melts into the chair and nuzzles her face, clutching her close. 

 

“It’s gonna be ok,” John repeats, crouching besides the chair, “You can both stay there until Stiles comes back. Melissa is supposed to pass in a few hours, she can look back at her if it reassures you, and we will both be there in case of problems. In the meantime: coffee?” 

Derek nods with a pale smile. 

 

John hugs him sideways before getting up to make us both coffee.

 

 

(If you’ve liked this little ficlet, you can find the original on tumblr with some additions from some great people [here](https://artemis69.tumblr.com/post/164036594511/pale-silver-comb-artemis69-artemis69)!)


	2. Various Derek and the Sheriff interacting prompts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Anonymous asked: I LOVED, LOVED your derek and Sherriff friendship! It was hilarious, and cute! Do you have other headcanons/idea for Sterek with the sheriff in it? I never see this enough..."
> 
> Answer is: always.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Anonymous asked: I LOVED, LOVED your derek and Sherriff friendship! It was hilarious, and cute! Do you have other headcanons/idea for Sterek with the sheriff in it? I never see this enough..."
> 
> Answer is: always.

I would read _all the cliché tropes_ twisted just to include the sheriff in more in sterek stories.

Imagine a cop!AU, where the Sheriff is the one doing the fake!prostitute trope (because there is a man killing middle aged prostitute, and also, the sheriff is totally still fit enough to be a prostitute!). 

And Derek is the kind soul that tries to take him in and proposes him some food because it’s super cold outside and the sheriff have been alone for hours in front of his flat (the sheriff is kind of pissed off by the fact that nobody picked him up). 

So Stiles gets called by his colleagues, that tell him that his father was apparently picked up off the street by a creepy looking guy.

Stiles comes in, gun blazing, only to find his dad eating homemade soup and explaining why he would make an _amazing prostitute_ to the most beautiful man in a comfy sweater, nodding his head in understanding.

Or you know, the sheriff falls into cold water. And Stiles and Derek debates the merit of getting naked to warm him up because, gross, this is dad, and this is the _Sheriff_ , and they are kind of all awkward and blushing because _naked in the same bed (_ even with the sheriff in between). While they are all blushing and looking at each other through their lashes, the sheriff has taken a warm shower and is now drinking a big coffee in bed (he doesn’t need anyone to warm up, thank you very much), and feeling very amused by their whispering.

Or the coffee!AU, where John goes to the same coffee shop every day, and there is this very grumpy, quiet barista that always makes him amazing coffee and keep the best pastries for him. 

And one day the Sheriff learns that _Derek_ is the one to bake them all, so he decides: this man will be his son in law, because he needs a reason to have this man in his family for at least forty to fifty years. 

Then he matchmakes with no subtilty whatsoever, basically offering his only son on a silver plate, Stiles spluttering all the way (but he takes Derek’s number anyway because the guy is just _amazingly cute_ )

Or the cop/firefighter trope, where the old boss of the Firefighters was an asshole, and the Sheriff archenemy. Then comes the new guy, Derek, that the Sheriff really, really wants to hate, but he kind of took him _out_ of his family house on fire when the man was fifteen, and he’s really nice, and he actually saved a cat from a tree (granted, it was Ms Damerson crazy demon cat, but it’s still mostly counts as a feline). And the more they meet the more he has to admit that he kind of like the guy, and one day Stiles gets stuck in a tree (because of course he does) and instead of calling the firefighter, John calls directly Derek’s number. He’s super proud when it all works out as well as he expected.

Dude. Any sterek trope is better (and funnier) with the Sheriff thrown in it :D

 

 

(Posted originally  **[Here](https://artemis69.tumblr.com/post/157836379751/i-loved-loved-your-derek-and-sherriff-friendship)!** ****)


	3. Wrong car AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the prompt: "Got into the passenger seat of the wrong car outside of starbucks. The driver waited until I finished my phone call to tell me."

“ **alexanderhale** :

This is just a Sterek AU waiting to happen.”

\--

 

 

AU where Stiles goes to college in New York. It’s 8AM and it’s now officially been more than 37 hours since he last slept. Finals are kicking his ass, _hard_.  

 

So when Stiles exits the coffee shop he’s like only 23% human, his brain is stuck on survival mode and he’s clutching the biggest coffee cup ever against his heart (the barista sent him worried look while adding all the expresso shots). 

 

Since his other hand is busy holding his phone—Scott is having a new “love at first sight” crisis—Stiles has to open the door of the cruiser with his hip. He sinks in the seat with a sigh, puts his cup between his thighs, rubs his eyes, and explains once again to Scott the concept of personal space and the thin line separating adorable from stalkerish.

 

When Scott only answer is a wailing, third description of the girl’s hair, Stiles decides that the subject is doomed and hangs up. He drinks some coffee again, humming in delight, and suddenly realizes how loud the silence in the car is. 

 

In the millisecond it takes him to turn his head toward the driver, he realizes that, one, he doesn’t havea car in New York nor do any of his friends and two, his dad will never let him forget it if he gets arrested for trespassing on police property.  

 

The third realization comes on the heels of the first two, in the form of  _the hottest man to ever wear a uniform._  

And Stiles has some references on the subject: he has seen Parrish in a rain soaked uniform AND been invited to Lydia’s bachelorette party. 

 

The man has arms, shoulders and eyes that Stiles is in no way alive enough to handle. Stiles won’t even think about the fingers wrapped around the wheel or the frowning eyebrows. Or the fact that the man politely waited for Stiles to finish his phone call.

 

“My dad is the sheriff,” blurts Stiles in the silence. The man’s eyebrows get frownier. “…in Beacon Hills?” 

 

The criminal in the back of the cruiser snorts at Stiles. The man is in handcuff on the backseat and half-naked, with white powder all over his face and an eye swollen shut, but he’s still clearly judging Stiles’ entire life. 

 

“Okay…” Answers should-be-a-stripper cop, with a slow, calm voice that Stiles knows is the “keep the manic suspect from going for a weapon” tone of voice. 

 

“I am very tired,” finally adds Stiles when the silence reaches critical awkwardness. The cop nods immediately, like it’s obvious, but his lips are curling up a little. He’s absurdly beautiful. 

 

There is a knock on Stiles’ window and they all turn toward the policewoman staring at them from the sidewalk, two cups of coffee in her hands. She’s smirking like a shark, heavy blond curls falling over an “Officer Reyes” badge. 

 

“Derek?” She asks, a laugh in her voice. 

 

“He’s very tired,” explains simply too-beautiful-not-to-be-a-caffeine-hallucination (Derek).

 

When Stiles turns toward him, the man is smiling, small but honest. Stiles may have to call back Scott and apologize for scoffing at the “whole love at first sight” idea.

 

(Erica finally takes the cruiser back to the precinct, and leaves Derek to walk Stiles back to his flat, for the good of the community.

Just to be sure that Stiles doesn’t climb in another stranger’s car or ends up falling in front of the subway. They drink their coffees on the way, and talk about Stiles’ dad, and Stiles’ major, and Laura and Derek’s cat. 

 

Derek calls the precinct to take a sick day five minutes before reaching Stiles’ flat. 

Erica laughs at him for it for all eternity.)

 

Originally from  **[here](https://artemis69.tumblr.com/post/166680539221/alexanderhale-this-is-just-a-sterek-au-waiting)**!


	4. Stiles dragging the Pack to play laser tag

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles is really, really into laser tag.
> 
> Surprisingly, so is Derek. 
> 
> Mayhem ensues.

 

Stiles played once, when he was twelve. He asked for it as his birthday present, and John and Melissa drove them to the nearest place from Beacon Hills. Stiles was absolutely delighted, until they learned that they would be put with strangers to form a team.

It all went downhill from there.  

 

They were left alone to be shot at fifteen seconds in, and had to hide under a ramp. Scott had an asthma attack when the fog machines started and Stiles, terrified, had to drag both of them out. He then fell into a full-blown panic attack in the changing rooms. 

 

So, not their best memory. 

 

But fast forward seven years later. They are nineteen now, Scott is a werewolf and Stiles has been tortured and shot at. Laser tag is gonna be easy. Stiles is _so_ ready to avenge their younger selves. 

 

He only needs a team. 

 

Stiles prudently presents the idea during pack night. He’s not worried for most of them; he knows that most of his friends have an unhealthy love for violence and winning.

He’s also ready to make Scott cry in order to convince Isaac.

 

The only unknown variable is their taciturn alpha. Somehow, convincing him to play with lasers in a room reeking of teenager’s hormones and sweat seems like a difficult task. But Stiles has prepared his speech, he has perfectly reasonable arguments, and he will bullshit about pack unity and trust exercises if need be. 

 

Of course, because this is Derek, and he likes to fuck up with Stiles’ expectations, he’s only finished the first sentence of his passionate plea when Derek raises one hand in the air to stop him. 

 

“ _Yes,_ ” he breathes, and  _smiles_. They all blink at him a little. Derek keeps smiling, bunny teeth showing and looking almost… excited. 

 

So.

 

Derek’s family apparently used to throw their kids into the woods to pitch them against each other for fun. 

 

Stiles is not surprised. 

Stiles is  _awfully_  not surprised. 

 

This was the family whose genes created Peter Hale. 

 

Not noticing their stunned silence, Derek describes his childhood memories. During their monthly run under the full moon, adults used to hide colored pieces of tissue everywhere. The next day, Derek, his sisters and cousins were all let loose, in several teams, into the wood. At dusk, the team that was able to bring back the more targets to their home base while protecting said home base from enemy raids won. The prize was some old trophy, bragging rights and first crack at every dish during the huge dinner.

 

Derek is trying so hard to communicate his enthusiasm for his claws-and-fangs-allowed, hunger-game version of catch the flag that his hands are moving a little bit in the air. It’s _adorable_. 

 

When Scott tries to get back on the subject of laser tag (Stiles glares at him, because Derek was  _sharing_   _things_ ), Derek immediately nods and explains helpfully that there is a place supernatural-friendly just 45 minutes away from Beacon Hills. There is no protest in the pack. Stiles bats the air with his fist in victory.

 

Their first game together teaches Stiles a lot of things. 

 

First of all, that Derek left out some key details concerning his youth. 

 

Like the fact that he was trained to play their Tom-thumb-meets-Battle-Royale game by his sister Laura, and that she basically weaponized him since he was four years old. 

 

Stiles has so many comments on the Hale’s style of education. But he can’t deny the results. 

 

Their usual Derek, the martyr beaten up regularly by their enemies to protect everyone, is nowhere to be found once they put one foot on the laser tag field.

 

Real violence and possible casualties? Derek freezes, unable to decide. 

Dangle in front of him the idea of making other werewolves eat dirt for sport? Derek was apparently _born_ for that. 

And he is  _vicious_. 

 

Scott stumbles like a moron over thin air (surely something to do with the way Allison looks in full laser tag gear) and Derek doesn’t even hesitate; throws him in front of enemy fire as a shield with one arm and a roll of eyes.

Stiles is disproportionately turned on. 

 

The second thing that Stiles learns is that their pack is  _clinically insane_.

 

Erica is thrown out of the game three minutes in, for decking another wolf straight in the face. Isaac apparently gets distracted by the neon lights and somehow stabs himself with his own claws, bleeding everywhere. Kira gets surprised and brings down the whole place’s electrical system for several seconds. Jackson bites someone’s gun in two. Lydia hits on the manager on their way out, which not only saves them from getting banned from the place but also wins them a fifty percent discount for the next game. 

 

Stiles adores them all.  

 

Somehow, this turns to a weekly thing. And, of course, it gets worse (better). 

 

They start planning. Stiles throws himself into it with glee, pinning blueprints on every walls of his room. It’s like living in a video game, but here all the players are insanely hot and able to bench-press him with one hand (even Allison. Especially Allison. He suspects that Lydia could bench-press him with her  _mind_ ).

 

Derek is there all the time now, jumping through the window already talking about a new idea or strategy. He buys the pack new clothes, in shades of dark grey and blue supposed to be less visible in the semi-darkness.

He laboriously draws a chart of helpful hand gestures for silent communication. The first time he tried to use it in the game without prior warning, Stiles thought he was trying to mime the death of a very ugly swan. Not knowing the correct protocol to follow, he tried a barrel roll on the ground. They both got shot.

 

After trying to feign indifference for several days, Stiles’ dad finally breaks and joins in. He digs out his old strategy books from the academy, and they spend long evenings arguing on the way to adapt them to laser tag. It’s now usual to find Derek eating dinner at the Stilinski’s, religiously taking notes of the debate in a little handbook.   

 

When they finally bring back home their first victory, the Sheriff puts the score report on the fridge. He crows about it more than he ever did for any of Stiles’ school reports. When he congratulates them, the sheriff calls Derek “son”. Derek straightens up and looks adorably chocked up. 

 

Some weeks, they win. Once, they break a record. They also lose more often than not. Despite everything, their team is still only a mismatch of insane people with guns. They are not the most predictable team.   

 

Allison, despite being an amazing shooter, is always reluctant of shooting werewolves at point blank. Too much family history there. Somehow, in her head, it still okay for her to shoot them from afar. Stiles doesn’t question her logic; they need her too much as their badass snipper.  

Lydia, on the other hand, is endlessly entertained by shooting guys straight in the heart. Several of their adversaries develop an addiction to getting shot by her, so it all works out. Stiles can’t blame them; the ghastly lights of the field do something terrifying but fascinating to Lydia’s already beautiful everything.

 

Boyd is the only sane player in their group. He’s the one interrupting their epic pep talks to remind them that this is all a game and that they are only there to have fun. He’s just quietly happy to play with his friends, and he always shoot people  _so_ politely. He’s there to keep them grounded when Stiles starts babbling about blood runes on the walls and Derek nods at him thoughtfully. 

 

Isaac is an average shooter, but he has the worst sense of direction. He gets lost on the map  _all the time_ , and they have to retrieve him from the weirdest corner of the place like a lost kid in a supermarket. Stiles is going to invest in a leash one day. He will be clawed to death, but he will fucking  _do it_. 

 

Scott, despite the werewolf muscles and new functioning lungs, is still a disaster. He keeps getting shot in the face trying to help the enemy gets up when they stumble. Stiles is totally with Derek there: dead weight has no place in a war. 

So they develop a new strategy, were they use Scott as bait for the numerous hen parties they have to face off (these drunk-on-wolfsbane werewolves are  _mean_ ). They throw him (sometimes bodily) into their group, then watch their dimple/embarrassed smile/shaggy hair bomb explode and destroy the enemy lines. They fleetly worried that Allison would be against the project, but she was the first one to hurl him into the fray. Allison hates losing. Stiles adores her.

 

They tried to use Erica in the same fashion, as honey trap for the drunk, stupid frat boy. She hit them all in the face with the butt of her gun. Once, she took a hostage. She often spends half the game waiting in the changing rooms. They are still working on it. 

 

Luckily, Kira is more efficient (and sneakier) in these kinds of missions. She has the whole “frail and needing a big, strong man to save me” look perfected. She then shoots them all in the guts and leave with a dazzling smile. It’s a thing of beauty. 

 

Jackson is still a jackass, who refuses to follow any type of order. Amazingly, his douchery is obvious after only five minutes of playing against him, even under neon lights. There is something inherently shootable in Jackson, and people love nothing more than riddling him with lasers. Every time. His outraged yells are the best part of the game for Stiles. 

 

Stiles and Derek both form the assault team. They are the one taking care of enemy bases and surgical strikes. 

Stiles is a great shooter —result of being a cop’s son— and as the creator of most of their strategy handbook, the only one able to adapt them on the run. He also has the advantages of being human, not losing his bionic eyes power in the flashy, phosphorescent environment, and his brains has basically turned to a printed layout of the field after all these weeks.

 

Derek is the brawn of their team. He has crazy reflexes, and reacts to simple changes in the air with a swiftness almost impossible to follow. Stiles has always thought that this was the norm in werewolves and that their pack was just reactively challenged. But no. Derek is a ninja werewolf. 

He also plays  _dirty_. He rips guns out of people’s hands, climbs on the wall like a crazy cat, yells false information to create panic in the enemy ranks, and sometimes swirls into the air like a ballerina on PCP. 

 

Stiles is so into it that their duo is basically made unbreakable by the pure strength of his desire. 

He can’t do anything about it. His tastes have been profoundly impacted by their confrontation to Lydia’s existence at a young age. He has a competence kink the size of a continent. 

Years have taught him to be at peace when falling head first in love with utterly beautiful people able to crush their enemies with bored intensity.

 

Derek also has the whole dark smirk, cute laugh and snarky comments that make Stiles hot under the collar. Combined with the bulging muscles in a tac vest? It’s reaching almost lethal levels of hotness. 

 

 

When they finally kiss for the first time, they are losing against a team of fifteen years old werewolves from Texas.

 

Jackson is sulking in a corner after being trapped and shot at repetitively. Allison, Kira, Lydia and Erica have gone rogue and created a new faction, leaving behind the general strategy to go teach some things to the betas that hurled sexist comments at them. Stiles almost hesitated in deserting with them, because there is nothing more entertaining that the girls enforcing feminism with an iron fist, but he also wants to  _crush them all_.

 

Isaac is being pretty somewhere, or more likely lost, and they haven’t heard from Scott for more than five minutes, which means that he probably got shot once again for apologizing before shooting (he is unable to learn the concept of sneak attack. It makes Stiles sick). Boyd left to find them both, because he’s way too good for their pack of assholes. 

 

Derek and Stiles are left alone to defend their home base, and they are surrounded by sweaty teenagers. Derek grits that they are coming, voice somber and a crease between his eyebrows.

The scene is very intense and dramatic and in desaturated colors under the neon lamps, so Stiles kisses him, softly. 

 

One of Derek’s hand immediately lets his gun go to curl against Stiles’ face, thumb caressing his cheekbone and he kisses back. It’s chaste but fierce, matching perfectly with the “this is our last stand but I’m happy you are the one standing beside me” atmosphere of the scene. 

When the adverse team reaches the base they hesitate, obviously surprised by this unusual defense strategy. 

 

Stiles shots two of them in the torso in cold blood. Derek, based uniquely on his werewolf radar and incredible ears, deactivate one of them in the arm. Without turning to face them.

 

They stare at each other for a second then Stiles basically climbs him using the straps of his jacket. Derek throws his gun on the ground and catches him under the thighs to kiss him again, all hunger and enthusiasm. He turns on his feet, enemies forgotten, to press Stiles against the nearest wall. The siren indicating the fall of their home base rings out, but Derek is too busy mauling Stiles’ neck to notice.

 

They are thrown out of the game by the manager, who finally catches them on camera. He finishes his announce on the speakers with a loud sigh, which gets under the laughs of the pack and a dozen teenagers. 

 

Stiles bows. Derek carries him out on his shoulder. 

Their team loses  _spectacularly_. 

 

Stiles is too busy ripping off Derek’s tack vest in the changing room to care. 

 

(Years later, they still tell the story to anyone who listens. They have several pictures from the blurry surveillance tape of this game framed all over their house. 

When they tell the story, it gets more epic and tragic every time. It reaches war movie’s level of building tension and despair when the first wave of children gets old enough to hear all about it.)

 

You can find the original tumblr post  **[here](https://artemis69.tumblr.com/post/156405031536/i-am-going-to-submit-a-random-headcanon-to-you)**! 

Also, there is a wonderful **podfic** to go with this random headcanon, that can be found [**here**](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9499910)!! If you love podfics as much as I do go listen to it and leave a comment to the adorable **Wolveshowlatnight** <3


	5. Solar eclipse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the Flash event: solar eclipse

 

Derek wants to go home.

 

The trip to Mexico was long, boring, and too stressful for him to handle. Derek didn’t know it was possible to hate something that much but he now knows that airports and airplanes are the worst things in the world. He has seen so many rude people, smelled the worst things, ate food that tasted like cardboard and then spent hours with his hands against his ears, trying to relieve the pressure against his eardrums that no werewolf healing could fix.

 

And after all this, they are now stuck in an unknown forest that just feels _wrong_. The trees are different from the preserve, menacing and unfamiliar. The forest smells of distant sea and rotting plants, like a brewing storm and turned over earth.

 

With five entire packs gathered in the same little clearing, there are too many unknown werewolves around for Derek to feel calm. The air is too moist and hot for the end of February.

 

Derek is _tired_ , and he doesn’t want to be here.

 

Cora has already given up, rolled in a tight ball like a pill bug inside their dad’s coat. Only her hair is spilling out over Derek’s knee and Derek tries to anchor himself on her quiet heartbeats.

 

At nine years old, Derek has been judged mature enough to have the tradition explained to him.

The mourning under the disappearing sun. The importance of networking and strengthening bonds with other packs. The significance of the tradition, the weight of generations and generations of ancestors crying under the same darkening sky.

 

At nine years old, Derek is still young enough to hate the whole thing.

 

The alphas are in the center of the clearing in a loose circle, silent and staring at the sky. His mom is the only one in full shift and, despite his petulance, Derek can’t help also feeling proud of his alpha.

 

His grandma and dad are standing just behind Derek’s mom, in full shift too. His grandma’s fur is streaked with grey and her muzzle white, as if dipped in snow, but she is still so beautiful.

His dad stares at his mom with so much mushy admiration than, even from this distance, Derek is vaguely embarrassed by them.

 

Derek’s head turns when he hears Laura’s heartbeats approach. She’s skipping toward Cora and him, smile full of fangs and leaving behind her two betas of the Alvarez pack shell shocked and smelling of frightened arousal.

 

Derek’s family is the worst.

 

Laura laughs at his disgusted frown and messes up his hair in passing. She kneels at their side and picks Cora up, still bundled up in their dad’s coat. Cora groggily buries her head in Laura’s neck, lax and trustful. Laura kisses Cora’s forehead before brushing her cheek with her knuckles, encouraging Cora to look up. When Cora finally does, their little sister’s mouth opens up in surprise.

 

Derek looks up.

 

The moon is now almost swallowing the entire sun, only leaving a fiercely glowing crescent behind some wispy clouds. The luminosity in the clearing is turning eerie, like a sunset sped up. The temperature drops suddenly.

 

Slowly, the clearing quiets down. All the wolves are shifted now, eyes glinting gold and red and blue in the growing darkness, all their heads raised toward the sky.

Around them, the world seems to freeze, animals made uneasy by the sudden arrival of night. The insects and birds stop singing. The whole forest sounds dead.

 

Derek shivers.

 

When the sun finally disappears completely and the clearing is drenched in dusk light, the five alphas throw their heads backward and start howling.

 

The howls are hoarse, coming from deep in their chest. It sounds like crying, like a wound.

Derek, after years of knowing only the joyous cries of the hunt, presses his head against Laura’s arm and frown.  

 

Many of the betas join their alphas and, for the long minutes of the eclipse, the wolves sing to the moon.

Against the silence of the world around them, it’s a beautiful scene. A heartbreaking one.

 

Derek doesn’t howl at the dark sky.

He shivers.

He wants to go home.

 

—

 

The light spilling on the hill is starting to dwindle, half the sun eaten up by the moon.

 

Sprawled on the ground, hands deep in the grass, Derek can already hear the animals of the preserve slow down, hesitate. The birds stop flying to perch in trees.

 

The world is going still, silent.

Well. Mostly.

 

A few feet away from him, Lydia, Allison, and Boyd are still sitting on the picnic blanket. The girls, buzzed from all the wine from the picnic, are leaning heavily against Boyd.

The three of them are laughing at the plot of the movie they all saw yesterday during pack night. Lydia is actually giggling, the sound lovely and surprising coming from her; Allison stares at Lydia, eclipse clearly forgotten for a better view. Boyd has his arms around them both, smiling fondly.

 

At the top of the hill, Isaac is –for some reason— perched on Erica’s shoulders. His elbows rest on top of her head and his head is thrown back so far back that his sunglasses are threatening to fall from his face. Erica’s own head is tilted on the side, resting her temple against Isaac’s thigh.

 

On their left, Scott has not stopped staring at the sky for the last forty minutes, afraid to miss even a second of it. His mouth is opened in wonder. Despite his werewolf healing, his eyes must be hurting now and he has dry tear tracks on the sides of his face. Nobody has been able to convince him to look down.

Jackson is poking him in the cheek every few minutes and mocking him half-heartedly, bored out of his mind.

 

Stiles is sprawled on the ground, his head in Derek’s lap and eclipse glasses on his nose.

 

“These things are ridiculous,” remarks Derek, his hands carding through Stiles’ hair.

“Please. I make them looks good.”

 

The paper glasses sit oddly on Stiles’ face, too stiff and a little crooked. The tip of his nose and his cheeks are red after hours under the sun, his freckles stark on his skin.

When he smiles at Derek, upside down and mirthful, he’s beautiful.

 

“You do,” Derek admits simply.

 

Stiles stares at him for a second, smile melting from amused to fond. He turns his head to kiss the palm of Derek’s hand.Derek cradles the back of his head with his other hand and keeps him as close as possible from him.

 

The temperature is dropping quickly, deep twilight crawling over the hill. Lydia and Allison finally remember the eclipse and put their own glasses on, Lydia’s face creasing visibly in disgust when the ugly glasses touch her nose. They both rest their chins on one of Boyd’s shoulders before looking up.

 

Scott is almost jumping up and down, straining his neck to try to look even harder at the last sliver of sun in the sky, his hand grasping Erica’s in excitation. Jackson looks up at Isaac, and they both shake their heads. When Jackson looks back up at the eclipse, he’s smiling.

 

Their voices are all turn to whispers. The sun is now almost gone.

 

Derek should shift.

 

He’s their alpha, and the only one on this hill knowing of the mourning traditions.

This is what brought them so far away from the city. The reason they all took a day off to be together as a pack.

To uphold traditions. To cry at the darkening sky.

 

But in his lap, Stiles is a warm, reassuring weight. His smell is familiar, blending with the syrupy, electric feeling of his magic bleeding in the air and raising the hair on Derek’s arms. And around him, his pack is vibrating in happiness and excitement.

 

Finally, the sun disappears completely. For a second, the world is silent, the forest sounds dead.

 

Derek doesn’t howl.

 

The silence is broken by Scott whooping, the sound tearing up from his throat in pure excitement.

Erica and Stiles immediately burst out laughing, loud and amused. Isaac, supportive as always, starts shouting too. Lydia and Allison are giggling, uncontrolled chuckles that nobody could make them produce if they were sober.

 

Amusement and exhilaration spread in the pack, enthusiastic whooping and yells deteriorating in chaos.

 

Isaac almost falls of Erica’s shoulders when he throws his arms a little bit too vigorously in the air. Scott somehow convinces Jackson to carry him, but they almost overbalance over the slope of the hill.

 

In Derek’s lap, Stiles is laughing, and laughing, and his magic and joy are almost a physical thing in Derek’s nose, on his tongue.

 

Derek kisses him, sending the eclipse glasses in disarray on his face, half over his forehead half on his cheeks. Stiles smiles goofily at him.

 

Derek doesn’t howl at the dark sky.

He doesn’t shiver.

He smiles.

 

\--

 

 

The original post can be found  **[here](https://artemis69.tumblr.com/post/164500973351/for-the-flash-event-solar-eclipse-of-the-amazing)**! 

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Untitled Cop!AU Comment Fic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16928544) by [dancink](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dancink/pseuds/dancink)




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